Life — May 4, 1922 — page 20: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

So Farce, So Good § HE GOLDFISH” seems like an amusing play which has been tinkered with. It has changed its name three times since it started, from “Up” to “Jenny Jones” to “Her Three Husbands” to “The Goldfish,” and with each change some one has evidently inserted a few more sure-fire scenes. The second act seems to have been built by invitation, with all the friends of the author invited, each to come and bring something funny to hang on the tree. The result is quite unlike anything you have ever seen before. One can almost hear what happened at rehearsals. Some one sat up back in the dark and yelled out: “Make it fun- nier! It drags right in here. Send Louie over to my office and have him get out of the filing cabinet eight or ten com- ical situations, any ones will do. We'll make a comedy out of this yet.” Thus it is that “The Goldfish” is partly amus- ing light comedy, partly rousing farce, and partly vaude- ville, slipping occasionally into boggy sentimentality. ARJORIE RAMBEAU helps “The Goldfish” a great deal, simply by coming on the stage. “A feast for the eyes” would be our phrase to describe it if we went in for such things. And wholly aside from her natural resources, Miss Ram- beau has acquired a line of comedy methods which, al- though synthetic, is undeniably effective. Like the author, she leaves no stone unturned to get the laugh, but as the laugh usually results, the incident would seem to be closed so far as we are concerned. Her scene with Wilton Lack- aye and Norma Mitchell in the property opera box, during which the play itself is put quietly to sleep in the corner, might well be a stunt to be billed as “The Three Reardons, in Five Minutes of Clean Fun entitled ‘Mrs. Noovo Reach at the Opera.’” And yet it gets across. The last act turns to sugar without warning, and the only reason that we could sit through it at all was that we were consumed with curiosity to see what happened to the boy in brass buttons who had appeared for a few minutes in the second act. On the opening night this young man’s entrance was the signal for an ovation from friends and lodge-mates which has been equalled in recent years only by the mention of Theodore Roosevelt’s name at the Re- publican Convention, and we naturally supposed that later in the play he would turn out to be a remarkable actor in the part of a Scotland Yard detective in disguise. He went through his one scene in the second act, however, without saying a word or doing anything more noteworthy than carrying the opera box on and off. And, although we waited until the final curtain expecting him to crash through the window and claim Miss Rambeau in a big emotional scene, he never appeared again. was being drawn through the streets by cheering crowds. Doubtless by then his carriage HERE must be something in the minds of those opti- mistic people who go to the trouble and expense of pro- ducing a farce like “Lady Bug.” Just what it is, is difficult to figure out. Maybe they think that just this once they are going to get away with it. It used to be that any time we saw John Cumberland’s name attached to a farce we felt that at least there would be something to laugh at. Evidently many authors of farces have felt the same way during the past few years and have thought that so long as they got Mr. Cumberland to play the lead they need do nothing more than change the pillow- slips and write a couple of lines for the butler and they would have a sure-fire hit. Consequently this excellent comedian has been tied up with a series of disgraces which have either been still-born or entirely unworthy of his sub- tle talents. Now it is beginning to tell on him, and we are no longer predisposed to laugh at his first appearance but wait until something worth laughing at takes place. At “Lady Bug” we waited from eight-thirty until ten-forty- five. The final curtain was at ten-forty-five. —_ & —— AST week we predicted that we were not going to like Eddie Cantor in “Make It Snappy.” The only other time we have been mistaken was in the Fall of 1911, and that was nowhere near so big an upset as this. To appreciate fully the enormity of this volte face it must be. understood that for years we have been a militant op- ponent of this wisp of a comedian. We have felt that hie was attempting to steal other people’s stuff, that he was crass and generally unpleasant to have about. Several times we have even left the theatre when he came on, but it never seemed to have any appreciable effect on his popu- larity with the rest of the public. In this mood we attended “Make It Snappy” at the Win- ter Garden and you can imagine our humiliation when we heard ourself laughing at him. In the first place, he is in white-face most of the time and has a solemn Jewish man- ner which is all his own. Then he has been given some funny lines, the funniest lines we have ever heard in the Winter Garden, which, while not the last word in praise is better than it sounds. Finally, very little of his stuff is offensive and even that which is, is pleasantly so. These revolutionary facts, together with the Cleveland Bronner ballet, have changed the old Winter Garden of our discontent into something else again. Robert C. Benchley. Th stand Bul dram: Th creep The viewe The life i people The foolin The | bitter | done He as the The Green Lay mater ing ¢ Mai which The Laure of wi The excell Co The later. Cap burles The susce} deligh The Ma M. C of no The Partie The Six. Truex troubl comicbooks.com